The next day…
I let Rigur and his people handle breakfast. Goblin food was, well, pretty simple. Just heat and eat. Haute cuisine it wasn’t, not that I could taste it. If I ever pick up that sense again, I’ll have to teach them the finer points, I guess. Food one can look forward to is one of the first steps toward an advanced culture.
Could these goblins really acclimatize to “culture,” though? I thought so. I had no idea how, but I wanted to test out everything I could. If we got tripped up over cooking, that would be a bad start.
The dwarves were up, still white as sheets.
“You all right?”
“Y…yes… Where are we?”
As they slowly shook out the cobwebs, they realized they were in unfamiliar territory. It unnerved them. I explained we were on our way to the village these goblins called home.
“Wh-what?! That would be a journey of some two months, normally! We won’t have enough food unless we procure a cart at some nearby town!”
It’s a little late to be surprised about that, isn’t it? I wanted to say, but—thinking about it—I hadn’t really explained much to them, had I? Things like how we got here and how fast we were going. We weren’t in a hurry today, so I decided to take the time to explain in detail about what we were doing.
Breakfast happened to be served right then. It was just a few wild hares roasted whole, but it was more than enough stimulus for the dwarves’ stomachs to start rumbling. Guess they can keep food down, at least.
As they ate, I reviewed our future plans. We would be at the village in another two days or so, I explained.
“““No…”””
They whispered in unison, realizing exactly how fast those wolves were taking them.
“Hey, don’t worry!” I replied. “Once you get used to it, it’s a breeze!”
It’d be nice if they could get used to it, but I figured we’d probably reach the end of the journey before then.
✦ ✦ ✦
We set off back down the road.
Time to build a Thought Communication space for us. Now that I’d done it a few times, it came naturally to me. The dwarves picked up on it, too, which was a relief.
Thought Communication was a sort of high-level version of Telepathy, letting you build links and talk with multiple people at once. It also made things like strategy meetings easier for us. It remained effective across a range of half a mile or so, which was more than enough for my purposes.
On the second day, the dwarves seemed largely capable of remaining on their rides without passing out. The force of the wind kept them from opening their eyes, so I built a sort of visor for them all from silk. Kind of like a helmet replacement, I suppose, and it seemed to do the trick.
I also started noticing that I could control my Sticky Thread to some extent via Telepathy. Once you got used to controlling magicules, it was amazing what you could do with them. Sticky Thread probably wasn’t the only thing I could apply that to, either. These little particles were the essence of magic.
Either way, the dwarves were getting into the swing of things, and their makeshift helmets were having the effect I wanted. I could talk with them now, and they were kind enough to teach me a thing or two about life in their kingdom as we rode on. The goblins were listening in as well, chiming in about their own experiences, and we had a nice, friendly confab for much of the day. This should keep up in the village, too, I hoped.
Dwarves, being partially sprites, were extraordinarily long-lived. Goblins, being partially magic-born, were notoriously short-lived. Evolution—or perhaps living conditions—had created a fairly large difference between the two.
I sometimes wondered if goblins were actually a step down the evolutionary ladder.
Hobgoblins, the next step up, seemed a bit like the monster equivalent of dwarves to me. Like they had gone back to their ancestral roots, in a way, with a lot more magic force at their disposal. I wouldn’t know for sure, but I imagined the evolution did wonders for their life spans as well.
They still weren’t the handiest, though, and there was a stark difference between monsters and fairies, but still…
Dwarves, for their part, were probably more closely related to monsters than, say, elves, another sprite race. Maybe that would help these two species get along, too.
As I suddenly remembered something else, I decided to bring it up.
“Kaijin. I know I’m a little late asking, but are you okay with this? You really respected that king, didn’t you?”
“Oh, that? I did, yes. There isn’t a dwarf alive who doesn’t respect him. Imagine having the hero of your nightly fairy tales serving as your actual king!”
It was an interesting thing to consider—the mythical heroes of the past, still alive and kicking and protecting their people as king. That would help me build a pretty healthy respect, yeah. I’d want to support him—this ideal king, one who always did the right thing and never allowed room for mistakes.
I wondered how much he had to sacrifice to maintain that ideal in reality.
In a way, it was frightening. It took a lot of spirit, I’m sure, to be a leader like that. That was what made people believe in him.
…Was I ready for that? I had become, more or less, the master of this goblin village. But what comes after that?
“Well, let me ask you this, then, Kaijin. Why did you come with me? Wouldn’t it have been the best thing for your life if you rejoined the king?”
“Gah-hah-hah-hah! Well! A lot more sensitive than I thought, eh, Rimuru? I did it because it looked like fun. It was just instinct, you know? Like, ‘Hey, this guy’s gonna go out and do something!’ That’s all the reason I needed, y’know?”
…Yeah. Maybe. Fair enough. He’s right!
“Heh,” I retorted. “Well, don’t come crying to me later if it turns sour. I’m pretty well-known for being mean to people!”
It was true. I did practically nothing by myself. I entrusted everything to others. But I did want to help. To be relied on. I wanted to be the sort of person who could manage that.
“Oh, I know!” Kaijin replied.
I nodded, satisfied.
✦ ✦ ✦
Two days later, we arrived at the village on time. Mission accomplished.